


We Go Together

by Magical_Persona



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Cannon Typical Violence, M/M, War time, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Persona/pseuds/Magical_Persona
Summary: As soon as Caspar and Linhardt are separated from the Black Eagle Strike Force their breaths are numbered.





	We Go Together

The two boys were cut off from the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force. Caspar was leaning heavily on his axe as they waded through swamp that threatened to pull them under. His boot slipped on something and he hoped it was a rock and not something far worse. Just the idle thought made him want to puke. He took a moment to glance back at the bishop struggling behind him.

Linhardt looked pale, face twisted into a grimace. The bishop was clutching at his side where a particularly crafty axeman had managed to get a blow in before he could get off a spell. It had stopped bleeding at one point, but the strenuous activity had reopened the barely sealed wound.

“Not too much further, Lin,” Caspar assured him. They were almost to solid ground, with their feet firmly planted they would stand a better chance.

Linhardt nodded, far too tired to say much of anything. He was tired of this. Tired of wading through blood stained muck. Tired of seeing the faces of his friends on the opposite side. Tired of this war. Just tired. When this was over he was going to sleep for a year and he swore to wake for no one.

Caspar flashed a bright, albeit tired, smile over his shoulder.” Manuela will get you fixed up in no time.”

Linhardt find enough energy in himself to smile back. Maybe he could find it in him to wake up for Caspar. But only him. He risked a glance over the large man’s shoulder to see if they were actually getting closer. Sure enough, the bank wasn’t too far now, but there was one problem with this plan. The bank itself was shallow enough, but it quickly gave way to a hill with a lovely treeline at the top. The perfect place to set up archers for any exhausted soul who might make their way out of the muck.

Not for the first time Linhardt found himself cursing this war. His thoughts were distracted when something crunched and twisted beneath his foot. Linhardt fell into Caspar’s back, nearly sending the brigand stumbling into the thick waters. Linhardt clutched to the grimy fur at Caspar’s shoulder. At least, at one time it used to be fur. Now it felt more like a morfis plum left to long in the sun.

Linhardt barely heard Caspar’s worried voice. He knew what he had stepped on. He couldn’t see it, but in the back of his head he knew. His breathing was coming in wheezing gasps and he felt someone, presumably Caspar, grab his shoulders. The more he tried not to think about it the worse it became. He’d felt that before. He’d helped Manuela enough by now to know how an arm twisted and cracked. A lump formed in his throat as unbidden questions leapt to attention.

Had it been an enemy? An ally? Someone fallen from a pegasus? Did they have friends or family? Were they just trying to make it out of this war alive?

“Linhardt,” Caspar wasn’t the best at lowering his voice, but he tried. He knew yelling and causing a big fuss wasn’t going to fix anything. “Linhardt, breathe. We’re almost through this. Then we’ll meet up with everyone and have a victory feast!”

Breath! Linhardt would have retorted if he had the energy. Breathe like the stench of this bog and the disgusting smells of old blood, sweat, and the things he didn’t want to think about would help. Even so, his breathing evened out. When he could finally open his eyes Capar’s brilliantly blue eyes greeted him.

“Okay?” Caspar asked.

Things were far from okay. Both of them knew that much, but they were standing in the middle of a wide open area. Up to their knees in smelly water and who knows what else. Now was not the time to complain.

“Yes,” Linhardt’s reply was weak, still breathless, but Caspar nodded nonetheless.

The blue haired man turned around, taking hold of the hand that had once been on his shoulder. “Let’s go. Not far now.”

The two carried on in silence, waiting for an attack, for something to happen. The closer they got to shore the more paranoid they became. Something was amiss. This hill was too quiet, too still. Like the world was holding its breath in anticipation. When they finally set foot on dry land the world erupted. 

Caspar felt himself pushed to the ground as the dull thud of arrows echoed around them. He felt one pierce his shoulder and another slam into his leg. Far worse than any arrow was Linhardt’s cry. It went straight through Caspar’s heart like a poison dagger. When the volly had stopped he risked looking around. Not far from his side was Linhardt, chest shuddering as he struggled to breathe.

“Lin?” Caspar crawled to the bishop’s side. “Lin, stay with me. It’s gonna be just fine. You’ll see.” He pulled the smaller man into his arms, the pain of the arrow inconsequential at the moment.

“Don’t lie,” Linhardt’s words were accentuated with wracking breaths and coughs filled with blood. The bishop raised a bloodied hand to wipe away the tears on Caspar’s face. “You always were terrible at it.”

“Linhardt, please,” Caspar’s tears fell on his lover’s face. “You promised. After the war, we were going to marry. Remember? You wouldn’t break a promise to me. Would you?”

To his credit, somehow Linhardt managed to smile. Grit his teeth and pull the world into focus. He just wanted to sleep, but Caspar was calling. More importantly, Caspar was crying.

“I love you,” Linhardt’s voice was barely above a whisper. Barely heard over the thunder of hooves rushing toward them. “I have always loved you. Even when-”

“Shut up!” Caspar hissed. “Save your energy.”

Linhardt let out a wheezing laugh, blood splattering over Caspar’s front. The sound of hooves had stopped. Lihardt was talking and for once, the world stood still to listen.

“Even when you tried to fight me when we were kids.” Linhardt sighed. “Do you remember?”

Caspar nodded, tears cutting through the splatters of blood on his face. “You climbed into a tree and took a nap while I tried to get to you. I was too short to reach the branches. I never stood a chance.” A small, strained whine escapes him when Linhardt goes limp in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” It’s a voice Caspar recognizes. A friend from many years ago, when the world seemed simpler.

Ashe leans over the neck of his horse, clearly not afraid that he might be in harm's way. His bow is hanging loosely in his hand, but Caspar knows he could have it aimed, drawn, and firing in the blink of an eye.

Shadows dance at the edges of Caspar’s vision, but he ignores them. He tried to think up a solution to this predicament, but he’s never been good at thinking. That was Linhardt’s job, but Linhardt was gone. The only thing left was the body. Caspar laid Linhardt’s head in his lap, running his fingers through the matted green hair.

“I can’t,” Caspar’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. It sounds exhausted, worn out,  _ tired _ . He used to wonder what it took to make him sound like Linhardt. Turns out it was and endless war that claimed the lives of everyone it touched.

For the first time he looks up and actually sees the rider in front of him. Sees the boy who chased cats around the monastery with him. Sees the kid who told him to be less impulsive. He remembered when they had discussed the proper way to deal with a thief. That soft, kind Ashe was still there, he could see it, behind the mask of blood.

“Without him, I can’t,” there are fresh tears falling from his eyes now. “Please, don’t leave me like this.”

“Caspar, I…” Then he sighed, straightening in his saddle. He pulled back on the bow.

Maybe Caspar should have been scared. He’d been scared of dying ever since they fought those bandits on their first mission. Every time they entered the field it was a possibility. He had always put himself in front of the others with seemingly no care for his well being.

He should have been scared, but the twang of the bow only brought with it relief. Relief that he wouldn’t have to spend his whole life alone. He was at Linhardt’s side until the very end. The two of them, through everything, would always go together.


End file.
